


Maybe I Will

by TheWalkingDebt



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9699764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDebt/pseuds/TheWalkingDebt
Summary: Ellen DeGeneres, bringing couples together since... well, at least right now. You certainly weren't expecting it, but finally something causes your friendship with Chris to develop into something more.





	

“So, you just finished your first major film…” Ellen started, and your nervousness jumped up your throat quickly. Despite making money by camera light, the fact that this was in front of a live audience was wreaking havoc on your nerves. You hadn’t been in this situation since your high school did  _ Lion King _ . 

 

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, forgetting all cues and previous rehearsals.

 

“Wait, wait, you didn’t let me finish,” Ellen mocked a stern expression. “Your first major film  _ without _ your usual shirtless wonder.”

 

“Oh,” you flushed. “You mean…”

 

“Yeah, this guy,” The screen beside you two flashed a picture of Chris, shirtless of course. ...Actually, you think that was from  _ What’s Your Number? _ … yeah, you recognized that... dish towel over his junk. Even if you hadn’t been his love interest in that one, you had a lot of time off and on set to mess around with him.

The audience whooped with pleasure, and your face heated up instantly. Thank God for the pancake makeup they served you with. Slightly insulting ( _ my skin isn’t that bad…? _ ) but better than turning into the Scarlet Wonder on screen.

 

“Yeah, yeah my first film without Chris,” although you had enjoyed the film - having a major role and a hot romantic lead beside you had sweetened the pot - you rather missed Chris’ joking around and constant comfort. “It was a lot less crazy behind the scenes, very quiet. Almost too quiet, I half expected him to jump out at me from behind, like, a ficus plant every few minutes.”

 

The audience chuckled understandingly as Ellen pulled up the movie poster for your new film, Evan Peters’ face split beside yours. “Wow, now  _ he’s  _ a looker.”

 

“Yeah,” you giggled a bit. “Evan was fun, though, and a total gentleman, unlike  _ some  _ people…”

 

“Who, me?” the sudden, unexpected voice had you almost falling out of your chair with fright.

 

“CHRIS!” you slapped his arm as he collapsed, laughing hysterically, on the sofa beside you. “You… jerk!” You were on live television, no way were you cursing. Your mom once warned you that kids watched these shows. You weren’t sure what she meant by ‘kids’ considering she used the phrase for everyone from three to thirty years old. Either way, you were playing safe on the cursing. 

 

“Aw, that was hilarious,” he grinned at you, that stupidly attractive ginger-brown beard spreading wide, as he reached across the space between couches to shake Ellen’s hand. “Thank you so much for letting me do that again.”

 

“One day it’ll get old,” she smirked back. “But today is not that day.”

 

“One day…” you sighed, playfully. “Can’t wait.”

 

“Nah, no way would I miss terrifying my favorite tag-along,” he swung his arm around your shoulders, winking at you teasingly. Your heart jumped in your chest. Those stupid crystal blue eyes of his… “So, how was your movie?” he was asking in such a condescending manner, but you knew he was just messing with you.

 

“So much better without you,” you replied dryly, much to the amusement of the audience as they oohed with the playful jab.

 

“Here, I’ll, I’ll get the First Aid kit for that burn,” Ellen reached as if fumbling for said object on her desk. Chris only pouted.

 

“That hurts,” he whined into his beard. “I don’t  _ wike  _ it.” Everyone who could hear his soft mumble tittered, grinning widely at the childish remark.

 

“Aw, I’m sorry,” you patted his thigh comfortingly. “But Evan was an absolute treasure. You’re more like a Furby doll. Doesn’t shut up even when you take the batteries out.”

 

“You just gotta wear me down better, I guess,” he replied lightly, staring you in the eyes, challengingly.

 

“I’ll get you there eventually,” you responded, heart in your throat, but utterly comfortable all at once. This was your usual banter. Vaguely flirty, innuendo-pumped, all insults and promises.

 

“So this is a good transition,” Ellen interrupted with a cough, grinning a Cheshire grin at the two of you, and both your eyes return to her. “Rumors that you’re dating…”

 

“Have been greatly _ under _ -exaggerated,” Chris grabbed your hand in his, rubbing the back of it teasingly. Your skin immediately broke out in tingles and warmth, and you just barely avoided giving him a surprised, and probably excited, look.

 

“...Evan Peters,” Ellen finished, somewhat mischievously.

 

“See, you gotta wait for her to finish, dearie,” you removed his hand, laughing at the astonished look on his face.

 

“Wh-what?” Chris sputtered, looking genuinely stunned. He was a damn good actor, though. “ _ I’m _ her best friend!  _ I’m  _ the one that people are supposed to think she’s dating!”

 

“Aw, is Evans jealous of Evan?” you teased lightly, patting his knee. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be on set for Avengers, even if I am dating ‘the wrong’ Evan.” 

Not that you would be. Evan was still doing his strange on-off dance with Emma Roberts, and holy hell, you were  _ so _ not touching that with a thirty foot pole. You told him time and again they were terrible for each other, mostly when offset getting drinks and trying not to get noticed by reporters. He dismissed you each and every time, insisting there was something there you just couldn’t see, and as much as you liked the guy, he was a real idiot about this.

So, God no, you would never date him. No matter how cute he was.

 

“Not if I ask you out first,” Chris grumbled under his breath, curling into his chair like a child who just did something he was told not to do. Your heart raced in your chest. C’mon. You knew he was joking. He always pulled that ‘jealous boyfriend’ shit whenever a new guy showed any amount of interest in you, but he never really  _ meant _ it.

 

You laughed a bit, feeling nervous and awkward as hell, “You can try.”

 

“Alright then,” he looked self-satisfied with his big triumphant smirk. “Maybe I will.”

... _ what. _

 

“Okay,” you were very aware how weak your vocal tone was, completely escaping you in surprise and disbelief.

Somehow, the interview got past all this, and you were somewhat registering all that was going on around you. But as soon as it was over, you had no clue what had truly happened for the rest of the time on air.

All you could think of was the words  _ Maybe I will _ .  _ Maybe I will _ . What the hell did that mean? Was he serious? You couldn’t believe that. Chris was never serious. Ever. Well, hardly. There was that one time that douchebag agent that had been aggressively hitting on you, you couldn’t for the life of you remember the name of him, and Chris laid him out flat after the creep grabbed you. That had been… excruciatingly hot. And serious. God his eyes had been the exact same way, steady and dark...

And the time you were crying over some jerk-face that dumped you via text and Chris showed up with your favorite takeout and dessert, plus movies. He actually threatened to burn down the guy’s house, but you think that was mostly to make you laugh.

He took things seriously when they absolutely had to be, but… you almost preferred the goofier side to him. The time he decided to screw with the paparazzi and grabbed your hand in the middle of a shopping trip you both desperately needed. You remembered giving him a glare behind sunglasses, and he only grinned back, getting far too close, your breathing getting shallow as he leaned in… to grab the cereal right behind your head.

 

“On your left,” he waggled his eyebrows, even as you tried to still your rapidly beating heart.

 

“Dick,” you replied, almost breathlessly.

 

“Thanks for noticing,” he winked playfully. Jerk.

Those pictures in TMZ were totally worth it later, even when your agent was whining about getting caught at all. As if you couldn’t be a normal person that indulged in a packet of Oreos and 2% milk from time to time. Dear Lord, you could not live on a diet of carrot sticks and water forever!

Then the time it rained on one of your sets, shooting was canceled, and he became a five year old over the puddles forming. He splashed you, soaking you to the bone, and obviously you had to retaliate. It wasn’t until you were shivering uncontrollably that he brought you back to your trailer, making stupid jokes about stripping and sharing body heat. You reminded him, though, that you had perfectly good blankets and a heating system. 

Now he was making jokes about dating? Seriously? You didn’t think your heart could take much more of this…

Your phone went off as your makeup was being removed, because of course you needed professionals to do that now, and you couldn’t just scrub it off in your sink at home. You answered it without checking who was calling, your makeup artist (de-artist? cleaner?) fussing about you like a pageant-mom mother hen. She clucked at your annoying habit of answering the phone even whilst being de-makeup-ed.

 

“I was serious,” his voice needed no introduction, and he certainly wasn’t waiting for one. Your stomach curled up in knots over the warm, stern tone Chris took.

 

“You? Never,” you made a light joke back, though, unable to deal with this. Surely he was kidding, he’d never…

 

“I want to date you,” you felt your heart jump out of your chest at his throaty words. “I want to take you out to nice restaurants and  _ kiss  _ you at the end, instead of make some dumb joke. I want to hold your hand in stores for real, not just pranks. I want to hold you at night, not because someone else broke your heart, but because  _ I’m  _ the one holding it.” As he went on, his words became more and more strangled, heavy with want, but choked by uncertainty. “And… and if you  _ don’t  _ want that…”

 

“I do,” you whispered, jaw trembling. You cleared your throat, trying to say louder. “I want that… so much, Chris.”

 

“You do?” he sounded surprised, happy, but surprised. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” you laughed a bit, giddiness making your head and voice light. “I really,  _ really  _ do.” There were no words for how much you wanted all of that, and more.

 

“Good,” he breathed, a small chuckle forming at the end of the single word. “Good, ‘cuz… I had no idea how to salvage that if you didn’t.”

 

“Chris? If I don’t see you in the next fifteen minutes, I’m preemptively breaking up with you,” you grinned into the receiver, your obvious amusement hopefully making it through the line to his ear.

 

He laughed, and your stomach twisted happily inside of you. “Be there in five,” he promised, and you had barely hung up when he burst into the makeup room. Everything else sort of slid away and disappeared when he leaned down and kissed you, hard and hungrily. His hands framed your face, shaking against your skin and hair as they trailed down your shoulders and sides. He picked you up easily, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, supporting you with one hand on the back of your head, the other arm cradling your lower body.

 

When you finally broke the kiss, gasping in much-needed oxygen, he leaned his forehead against yours, nosing you with a breathless laugh. “I love you, so fucking much.”

 

“Love you too, you meatball,” you giggled back, leaving tiny pecks on his lips, teasingly. He grunted with annoyance when you kept pulling away again and finally kept you from your tactical retreat by way of his hand on the back of your neck.

 

“Don’t  _ tease  _ me,” Chris growled, and all your inner organs melted with the heat that sound created inside of you.

 

“As much as I fucking want,” you challenged, grinning against his lips.

 

“Please leave the room if you’re going to continue,” the irritated makeup lady tsked, finally making us aware of her presence once more.

 

“Happily,” and Chris carried you out easily, promising nothing but sweet things into your ear.


End file.
